Doctor Who_ Original Sin - Andy Lane [141]
‘Something stronger?’ Cwej’s father said, coming in from the kitchen. He was carrying a bottle.
‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘why not?’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ he said, handing her a glass and pouring a generous measure. ‘Three hundred years old. Got it on Gallavax Prime. Brewed from the fermented pollen of mutant space bees.’
‘Lovely,’ Forrester said. ‘There’s nothing better than mutant space bee pollen when you’re looking for something to ferment.’
‘I’ve had it ever since I was Chris’s age,’ Cwej’s father continued, oblivious to Forrester’s sarcasm. ‘Saving it for a special occasion. Last night, while we were barricaded in, I thought, if we ever get through this, I’ll drink it.’
‘Moments don’t get much more special than living when you thought you were going to die,’ Forrester agreed. She glanced over to where Cwej stood talking to Bernice beside a large blue box that belonged to the Doctor. ‘Or seeing it happen to someone else,’ she added, and took a sip. It tasted of honey and sunlight. Not bad. Not bad at all.
Then again, anything would taste nice after what they had been through.
The simcord was on in the corner, and she tuned in to the voice of the news-caster saying: ‘I’m Shythe Shahid and this is The Empire Today, on the spot, on and off the Earth. Martial law was rescinded this morning as the Imperial Landsknechte and the Order of Adjudicators reported that their attempts to get the riots under control were succeeding. Fires still rage throughout the Undertown, but reports of violent incidents are dropping and flights have resumed from most major spaceports. Damage is estimated at up to nine hundred trillion Imperial schillings, most of which is expected to be raised by taxation of offworld dominions, but the questions now being asked are: why 239
did it happen, and will it happen again? Meanwhile, news just in from the planet Solos . . . ’
‘We’re thinking of moving off Earth,’ Cwej’s father confided. ‘It will happen again. Bound to. People just aren’t happy.’
‘Off Earth?’ Forrester was taken aback. Despite the riots, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.
Except, a cold voice within her said, you’ll have to. Adjudicator Secular Rashid is on the INITEC payroll. You’ll never be able to forgive her for that, and for Martle’s – Martle’s death – but you’ll never make anything stick. Never.
‘Yep,’ Cwej’s dad continued, ‘but we’re still trying to work out where. I mean, the galaxy’s so big, and the Empire extends so far.’
‘Why not try Hithis?’ the Doctor said, emerging from the kitchen. He was carrying his jacket slung over his arm, and he had his shirt sleeves rolled up as if he’d just been doing some work.
‘Hithis?’ Cwej’s dad said.
‘A lovely world, soon to be returned to its rightful owners, I hope. Provost-Major Beltempest – or whatever his real name is – has promised to intercede directly with the Empress. You’ll be welcomed there.’ He turned to Cwej’s mother. ‘Oh, by the way, I think I’ve managed to fix your irradiator, Mrs Cwej.’
‘Was it the techbrain?’ she trilled.
‘Indeed it was,’ he replied. ‘Fortunately I had a replacement with me. It might be a tad more intelligent than your irradiator actually needs to be, but it should work perfectly.’ He smiled to himself. ‘Just promise me that you won’t go connecting it up to a radio transmitter.’
Mrs Cwej smiled vaguely, and moved off towards Bernice.
‘If you’re operating a travel agency,’ Forrester murmured to the Doctor, ‘then I’d like a chat.’
‘Of course,’ he replied. ‘Thinking of emigrating?’
She sighed. ‘We can’t stay here,’ she said, glancing over at Cwej. ‘I don’t know if the boy wonder’s realized yet, but there’s a lot of angry people out there. Conspiracies always run deep, and Rashid knows that we know. We can’t touch her for it – there’s no evidence – but she’ll always be worried.
We’ll have to start over, somewhere else.’
The Doctor